Ceci n'est pas un blog

I was just talking to S about the possibility, as yet unconfirmed, that we may have landed an apartment. And so H's tiny voice pipes up, she and S chat for a bit about how, yes, that is daddy on the phone and then my dear spouse says to our tiny daughter, "don't put the lollipop on Hedda Gabler". Admittedly not as good as "take the Buddha out of your mouth" but goes in the mighty list of things you never thought you'd say.
So here's a picture of the apartment we want. It's very very close to work. I walked to the viewing - 10 minutes up hill from work while drinking a cup of tea. The building is across the street from a park and just around the corner from the elementary school. The street is closed to through traffic, and it's a top floor unit on a corner, so few neighbors for the puppies to disturb. It's an historically zoned building, so changes are regulated but they have put in all modern appliances and new bathroom with heated flooring. Oh, and it's 100 square meters. This is a nearly unheard of amount of space. A co-worker said in a wistful voice, "I once shared 100 square meter flat but the owner sold it and we were only there a few months".

So it's not a done deal but we were the first people to see it today and told the owners we were interested and now it's listed as rented. Not to get our hopes up, but fingers crossed and all that.

And once again, I should sing the praises of the immigration consultants from the chamber. One of the ladies who is helping me had called ahead and set up the appointment to view, had prescreened our important questions with the owners (dogs allowed?), and was there to answer my questions about the process and to help translate between the owner and I. So, all good.